


Murder Song

by spellitwithyourpeas



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Angst + fluff, Claire and Karen have a heart to heart, Dream Sequences, F/M, Frank and Karen stuck in small space, Frank and Matt talk about Karen, Frank is a sweet drunk, Frank respects women, Karen goes clubbing with Trish, Karen has car trouble, One Shot Collection, Punisher digs burgers, Sexy Times, marriage proposals, max the pitbull
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-06-09 13:38:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 17,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6909595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spellitwithyourpeas/pseuds/spellitwithyourpeas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various Kastle one shots.</p><p>"You can love a monster, it can even love you back, but that doesn’t change its nature."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Landscape of a Lie

She dreams in black and white.

Of a landscape of waves crashing on a beach and racing barefoot. Two blondes giggling as the sand quaked beneath their heels. A voice in the distance shouting, “Karen! Kevin! Not too far!”

The boy waded into the ocean.

The girl stood on the edge of the water, digging her toes in as she closed her eyes. The sun warming her skin. A family picnic by the ocean. Summer vacation and contests to see who could spit the watermelon seeds the farthest. Laughter and late nights.

The happy images shattered at the sound of her mother’s weeping.

The boy floated face down in the sea, now quiet and still.

The girl let out her own silent scream.

Karen woke not to sunlight streaming through her window, but to a city bathed in shades of grey. Her hands shook as she wiped the tears trailing from the corner of her eyes.

No, he didn’t drown. It was a car crash. But her mind never cared about the accuracy of the past. When she slept and drifted off into old memories, they were tainted. Something just not quite right about it. A dizzy, sickening feeling like she’d stared at a distorted image for too long. 

And she’d bury it deep down during the day. Only for it to rise to the surface the next night.

\-----

Frank’s dreams are vivid, flashes of color. Too bright and overly saturated. Always a sensory overload. The sound of the carousel harsh and the usual eerily cheery sound was now distorted and maniacal. Like a kid's toy with a dying battery.

It's mocking. 

Laughing at him. At his failure. His children play in the distance. Too far to reach.

The sweet smell of his wife’s shampoo in the breeze.

But then it’d go silent and that’s how he knows it's a dream. Even when you think it's silent. There's always something-an exhale, the wind, an airplane over head, crickets. Always something to hear.

The only thing he could compare the stillness to was the aftershock of a car bomb. Except with that he at least he had the ringing.

No this…this is absolute silence. And it drives him mad.

He can never tell when the shots fire. The only sign is the sight of the bodies of his family dropping to the ground.

Blood splattering the asphalt. The images of war he thought he left behind reappeared right in front of him.

 And his hands are always tied. Even in the dream he can feel the rope biting into his wrists. His throat stings with a hoarseness that comes from prolonged screaming. But he can't hear it. Not a goddamn thing.

After they drop he watches them bleed out. Watches the light fade from their eyes. That spark of life just....gone.

And then the scene repeats. Over and over again. Every little thing the exact same thing. Every fucking time.

No matter how hard he tries he can't move . Like he's going against an unmovable force. He's stuck.

Frozen in place until he wakes up gasping for air.  The world rushing back to him and it's a heavy pressure on his chest. The weight of living.

The nightmares are his penance. A modern day Sisyphus.


	2. The Gray Ghost

It was uncharacteristic of Frank to miss their coffee dates at the café. It was even more unsettling when she didn’t hear from him after two days. When Karen tried to call, she wasn’t met with a gruff “Hello”, only the endless sound of the phone ringing. After the third try, she made up her mind that she was going to his apartment.

Karen ditched the pencil skirt and blouse and changed into a jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt. Before she left her apartment she put her hair into a pony tail, pulling it through the back of the one baseball hat she owned. The part of town that Frank lived in was unsurprisingly shady. Karen didn’t want to stand out and definitely didn’t want to be recognized in the future. Glancing in the mirror she felt out of sorts. Unfamiliar with the reflection.

Good.

Her hands were steady as she wiggled the lock pick, glancing down the hall. When she stepped into the empty, dank apartment, a low whine made her start towards the kitchen.

“Oh Max.”

The Pitbull sniffed her open palm and gave her wrist a lick. Karen noted the empty water and food bowl and the puddle in the corner of the kitchen that smelled of urine. Shit. Max was the one thing left in Frank Castle’s life that he loved wholeheartedly. He wouldn’t have left him without making arrangements.

“C’mere sweet boy. Let’s get you some food.” Max’s tail started to wag as she filled up his water and food bowl before searching around the small space.

Her fingers traced over the map of the city on the wall. They were supposed to meet to talk about the Russians. They were making a comeback. She leafed through the documents-schedules, maps, chicken scratch notes. The scattered surveillance pictures suggested that Frank had been tailing the Dog’s of Hell recently.

The brush of a warm body on her leg made her smile and look down at the dog at her side. “Ok Max. Let’s get you out of here.”

Karen grabbed the leash hanging by the door and clipped it to his collar. She gave one last look over the apartment before shutting the door behind her. Karen kept a tight grip on the leash, while she tapped on Matt’s name in her phone.

He picked up a few beats later, “Karen, is everything ok?” Matt sounded exhausted, like she’d woken him up.

“With me, yes. But I think Frank’s in some trouble. I know I don’t have any right to ask you, but would you-,”

“I’ll look into it Karen. What do you know?”

She exhaled the breath she’d been holding.

They’d had their disagreements in the past, but the time apart seemed to be doing them some good. When they did talk, Matt’s effort to reign in his old habits was noticeable. The lectures were kept to a minimum.

On her part, she had moved past the feelings of betrayal since his reveal in their old office.

They would never have the same intimacy they previously shared, but they were on middle ground.

“Not much. We were supposed to meet. That was two days ago and I just left his apartment,” She heard him sigh. She continued, “Max-his dog was there, not fed, and that just isn’t Frank, Matt. I don’t know if he’s hurt somewhere or if someone’s got him, but I think he was looking into Dog’s of Hell.”

“That sounds about right. I’ll let call you when I find something.”

Not if, but when.

“Thank you Matt.”

When she got back to her apartment, she unhooked Max from the leash, leaving him free to sniff around. Watching him explore as she filled a bowl of water, brought back childhood memories of her family’s golden retriever, Daisy. They’d all cried so hard when they had to put her down.

She lacked the focus to work on her upcoming story and as much as she wanted to comb through Hell’s Kitchen looking for Frank Castle. It would have been ill advised. Instead Karen chose to attempt to lose herself in fiction. She grabbed _To Kill a Mockingbird_ from her coffee table and settled on her couch.

Max eventually stopped pacing and trotted over to Karen. She couldn’t help but laugh at the big stare he gave her. She relented and patted the space next to her and he jumped up on the couch and joined her, turning a few times before settling with his head in her lap.

That evening, when her phone rang, Karen tossed the book on the couch and stood. Max dashed off with her and paced around her, tail whipping against her leg. He let out an eager bark. “Hush.” She answered, breathless, “Is he alright?”

“Yeah, Karen. You were right- it was Dog’s of Hell. He’s fine. He put up a fight. Already working on getting away from them by the time I showed up. Claire’s patching him up now.”

She heard the unmistakable grumble of Frank, “Give me the fucking phone Red.” There was static as the phone switched hands.

“Max ok?” The concern in his voice was almost tangible. She could picture the crease forming between his brow.

Her reply was kind. She wouldn’t mock his worry for one of the few attachments left in his life.

“Your dog’s fine. He’s been fed and walked. We even cuddled.” Frank let out a chuckle that quickly turned into a hiss. An annoyed voice in the background commented, “If you’d hold still this would go a lot smoother.”

“I owe you Karen. I’ll be by to pick him later tonight, if you’re around.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be here.” Karen wanted to laugh after he hung up. He was being very generous with his assumptions about her social life. She sat back down on her couch, restless with a nervous swirl of feelings she couldn’t quite put to name.

She settled back into the couch, feet tucked underneath her and picked up the worn book. It wasn’t a long read and since pouring over case files for the last year, speed reading came naturally now. The tone of the book was familiar and lulling as her eyes danced over the page.

The flutter in her stomach had settled by the time she got to the last page. Sniffing as her eyes welled with tears.

_He guided me to the bed and sat me down. He lifted my legs and put me under the cover. “An‘ they chased him ’n‘ never could catch him ’cause they didn’t know what he looked like, an‘ Atticus, when they finally saw him, why he hadn’t done any of those things… Atticus, he was real nice…”His hands were under my chin, pulling up the cover, tucking it around me._

_“Most people are, Scout, when you finally see them.”_

She shut the book, pausing briefly to glance at the notation on the inside cover. The cursive scrawl of her father’s handwriting. It had been a birthday present, long before it became assigned reading her sophomore year of high school. He always gave her one of the classics for her birthdays. Unwrapping the present, her mind raced through the seemingly endless list-which would it be this time?

His eyes would light up when she grinned. The wrapping paper floated gently to the floor as she traced the title, her smile genuine. It was their tradition.

One that she thought would continue into adulthood.

It didn’t.

Max’s bark brought her back to the present. He was waiting by the door. It took her a second to realize that Frank was knocking. Calling out a hoarse, “Coming” she wiped her eyes, fanning her face as she walked to the door. Taking a quick breath to regain composure, Karen opened the door to see Frank standing, hands in his pockets. He gave her a quick glance, noting the splotchy red aftermath of her tears, but once Max pushed passed Karen’s knees, Frank dropped down to greet the dog.

She’d seen Frank smile with her. A temporary reprieve from the intense focus and stubbornly clenched jaw. It was a wall that was breaking slowly. Crack by crack.

But now, Frank beamed. Split lip and all as he greeted the Pitbull. Karen laughed at the sight, stepping aside, “Alright you two. Back inside.” Ushering them into the apartment before her nosy neighbor got a chance to unlock her door to peer out at them.

Within the apartment, Frank patted the dog, and looked to her from his crouched position. “Those tears better not have been on my account?”

Karen moved into the kitchen to fill two glasses of water. “Don’t worry. They weren’t.” _Not today at least._

Glasses in hand she walked back to the couch, placing them on the coasters on the coffee table.

Frank settled on the floor, rubbing Max’s belly. She glanced over at him as he doted on the dog. His chest rose with shallow breaths-bruised ribs no doubt. Steri-strips covered a cut on his forehead. Probably some stiches underneath his shirt.

Feeling her gaze, he turned his attention to her.  “So you picked my lock?” His tone was light, almost playful.

Karen smirked, “I did. But I’m not _that_ skilled. You should probably replace it.” Her eyebrows raised as she took a sip of water.

“Been meaning to.” Max made a pitiful sound as Frank stopped petting him and instead rested his clasped hands on his knees. “Suppose I have you to thank for Red coming in to save the day?”

“Figured he’d have better luck at finding you first.” Frank’s expression turned serious at her words, not missing the implication. She had considered doing a more thorough search before she called Matt.

“Then I’m glad you called him. The whole patch up job was a little overkill though,” He held up a hand when Karen opened her mouth in protest, “but appreciated. Ms. Temple is something else. Good lady.” She smiled in agreement, “That she is.”

Max rolled over, shaking off before jumping back up on the couch next to Karen, who scratched behind his ears absent mindedly. “He’s a good dog.”

Frank sat up slowly with the slightest of winces as he sank into the couch next to them. “Yeah, well most people wouldn’t think so looking at him.”

Karen brushed the dog’s cauliflower ear. “Maybe they just need to look closer then.” Frank’s stiffened at her offhand comment.

She didn’t notice.

He cleared his throat, “So…why the tears?” She gestured to the book on the table and sighed. “Since I didn’t go chasing down your ass, figured I’d pass the time…normally.”  Frank reached for the book, but paused his hand hovering over it “May I?”. Maybe he’d noticed that it was well loved. Maybe he didn’t want to impose.

The flutter returned. A sudden, rapid beat.

She nodded, quietly asking. “You a fan?” as he gently inspected the cover.

Frank smiled. “Yeah, but Maria loved it. Whenever the movie was on tv she’d always watch it. Gregory Peck you know.” Karen snorted, “I know.”

“Anyway, she’d cry at the end too.” He shifted ever so slightly, “Was going to be one of the movies we’d show to the kids later in life-use it all as a teachable moment.” He placed the book down and leaned back, rubbing his sore side.

He was done. Over the months, she’d gotten used to reading the signs. Hearing it in his voice. The slight hitch of his breath before he spoke, mentioning their names. And the sigh. The parting of thoughts and abrupt return to the present.

Like now.

They were both quiet. Lost in their own memories. She didn’t share that the well-loved book was one of the first things she packed before leaving Fagan Corners. He didn’t tell her how the first time he joined Maria on the couch, watching the black and white film come to a finish, she’d leaned her head against his shoulder and whispered “You’re a good father, Frank.”

A soft snore broke the silence. Max twitched in his sleep. Karen raised a hand to her mouth, suppressing a laugh. She met Frank’s gaze and they shared a small, fond smile.

“Shit what’s the time?” He raised his wrist, checking the tactical watch. One in the morning.

Stifling a yawn, Karen stood up, her back cracking with movement. “Let him sleep Frank. You two can share the couch.” Frank watched her shuffle into the bathroom, hearing the sound of the faucet run as she brushed her teeth. He shook his head and took off his boots before stretching out with his feet on the coffee table.

The sight of Frank and his dog, sleeping peacefully on the couch caused Karen to pause when she left the bathroom a few minutes later. Maybe these little moments, amidst the violence and the digging, maybe this could be their normal.

The twisting feeling coiled within her again. She had a better idea of what it was.

Hope and fear for the future.

A fondness for the outcasts on her couch.

She shut off the light and laid down in her bed. Her thoughts quieted eventually and she drifted to sleep. Images of blood and ink stains, shadows in a window sill, of birthday gifts, and the sound of barking mixed together in jumbled nonsense. But she slept deeply, put at ease by the company in the next room.


	3. Wrap up my bones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listened to ( [Still by Daughter](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uUWrcFpmI5U) ) The lyrics are just stunning.

One week.

That’s the longest their “cool off period” ever lasts. The average length is three days.  

Their arguments don’t end with slamming doors. Not anymore. It’s over when raised voices run their course and the silence settles in.

The content of their disagreements evolve  with the days and months since he so violently showed up in her life.

_“You were reckless.”_

_“....I can’t lose you.”_

_“Stop trying to fix me.”_

_“You don’t know what I did.”_

_“I’m not going to stop.”_

Different times. Different words.  But it all stems from the same rooted fear of losing something-a part of themselves or the other person.

Stubborn they both may be, but their opposites in their physical expression of frustration.Karen digs her heels in and stands her ground. Her stillness is deceiving as her mind races, drawing up a list of counter points to his arguments.

Frank always paces. A man that cannot be contained. His voice is harsh and his eyes are wild. Fingers trembling when he leaves.

Sometimes it’s all too easy for her to forget the bullet to his brain. The damage it caused.

He is not stable.

 It’s scientific, she knows. The preliminary reading? Seeking out the psychologist to provide expert witness? That was all her.

He’s told her to leave him.

She doesn’t.

It’s a conscious choice. She knows that she could if she wanted to. Could block his number, ignore his knocks till they stop coming. That she could actively pursue other stories. Happier ones. Eventually find a good man. Marry and mother their children. Allow the old adrenaline rushes of her past-the constant search, the high from putting all the pieces together, the breathless fear as death passed her by, over and over again- she could allow it all to fade to the back of her mind.

But she doesn’t. It’d be a lie.

Her life doesn’t stop because of his temporary absence. She doesn’t cry when he leaves, just grits her teeth and gets back to work. But she’s always ready to open her door.

That's how began and that's how it will end.

An ebb and flow. She takes a step towards him. He takes one back. She conceals a shudder and he reaches out, only for her to dismiss his look of concern with a forced laugh.

He leaves silently, she stays.

One of the few constants in his life. Never at her expense though. She’s no saint and she certainly won't be walked over. She reminds him that she doesn’t agree with all of his actions, but she accepts him.

And he sees her. Knows her.

He comes back empty handed, but ready to talk. And they do.

Sometimes they save conversation for the end. Finding peace, a new calm between them, with clasped hands and bodies in motion. As they lay stretched out on her bed, the sweat drying on their skin, he'll smiles when she kisses his bruised knuckles.

It’s not easy, this love. But it’s true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably going to be going back and forth between drabbles and one shots.


	4. Skip the Charades

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like shit.”

The comment comes with a wry smile and she can’t help but narrow her eyes back at him.

“Gee, thanks.” She steals a fry from the pile that he’d been slowly picking at. His burger was gone. Frank devoured it quickly. She, on the other hand, tried to eat hers with a little more class. Watching him eat it messily, she made a mental note to self: the Punisher digs burgers.

He rolls his eyes at her cheap form of revenge and pushes the Styrofoam take out box in her direction, “In all seriousness, Ma’am you look like you could use a break.”

The fact that this is all coming from Frank Castle-the man who won’t let a broken rib or bullet in the leg stop him from clearing the streets of Hell’s Kitchen makes her laugh before she replies with a mumbled, “I could say the same to you” as she covered her mouth, chewing.

He leans back into the kitchen chair and she pretends not to notice his fixed gaze, absorbed in the task of swirling another fry in ketchup. Frank huffs.

Here it comes, she thinks sardonically, brushing off the grains of salt from her hands. To Frank, people were a quick study. Sure, you gotta sort through the bullshit, but there’s always something-a little tick, a change in the voice, some sign of what’s hiding underneath that he picks up and holds onto.

Karen leans in with her arms crossed and resting on the table, “Alright. Let’s hear it.”

“You always do that. Deflect.”  The last word heavy.

She sighs. It’s true that you have to pick your battles. He was right after all, and the defensiveness that had been building simmers and fades. She did look like shit. There were dark circles under her eyes and her hands had a faint tremor-caffeine overdose will do that to you. As for the deflection? That was a hard habit to break.  

“Yeah. Yeah, I tend to do that.”  Tapping a finger against her knuckle she continued, “Regarding the shit look-to be honest, I’m just not very good at slowing down.” Her brow furrows in brief contemplation, “you know, it’s kinda how I’ve always been I guess.”

Memories of cheerleading, dance, student council, AP classes rush back. Her parents always worried that she took on too much, but she liked the challenge. Liked the fast pace and for the most part she succeeded. She was an early riser-didn’t need an alarm clock. That routine had stayed throughout the years.

Frank reaches for a fry, “You got any hobbies?”

The look she gives him is one of disbelief. The question was just so… _mundane_ for them. “Uhm…I like to read, but there hasn’t really been much time for that. Let’s see..,” she purses her lips in thought. One thing Karen, really? One hobby? “Anything involving food. Trying new restaurants or new recipes. Or just exploring the city, there’s a really good farmers market on Saturday….” She trails off when she sees him watching her with a smirk.

“What?” Her cheeks flush with the attention.

Frank shrugs, grinning as he takes a sip of the lukewarm coffee from his mug. (And it was his mug. She’d spotted in on one of her rare shopping outings. The  script of “I just want to drink coffee, save animals, and sleep” jumped out at her and it was an impulsive buy. He’d smiled when he saw it in her cupboard.)

“Better watch it Ma’am. You almost looked happy right there. Maybe you should get back into your books and farmer’s markets.”

She scrunched up her nose at him, “I see what you did there. Fine. Tomorrow’s Saturday. Maybe I’ll go.”

“Sounds like a good idea.”

Karen did go. Strolled, actually strolled, passing the booths, breathing in the sweet smell of freshly baked pastries as she eyed the rich colors of the vegetables lined up in rows. It was a brief reprieve from her usual rush and she enjoyed the pause from the deadlines, interviews, and glow of her laptop screen.

Guess she had Frank Castle to thank for it.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from the song by the [Cold War Kids](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pr9XDB6glRk)  
> It was gonna get angsty originally but haha LET THE FLUFF LIVE.
> 
> The [mug](https://www.etsy.com/listing/266725871/drink-coffee-save-animals-and-sleep?ref=market) referenced in the story haha
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	5. Leave me at the alter

All good things come to an end. That’s the saying right?

She wouldn’t have described him as a good thing…still can’t. She wasn’t willing to make the final check mark in the box, defining him as good or bad.  Frank Castle was in his own box.

Maybe she was too.

But what if it wasn’t good from the start? She broke into his home. He used her as bait.

Dangerous and reckless choices.

But he saved her. Shielded her with his own body. An act based on instinct.

In her own way, she saved him too.

It morphed into something that may not have been good, but it did feel _right._ One thing at the end of the day that by some miracle worked. Or at least it did for a period of time.

He reads her like a book, with fingertips tracing down her spine and it’s her undoing.

She’s the last safe place he can turn to and it’s twisted in its own way. The haven that she embodies only tainted by his presence.

But he won’t quit.

He can’t.

Can’t even chase the thought of stopping for more than a few seconds. He’s playing the role of executioner like God himself gave him the decree.

Feeling the breath leave the bodies of these bastards and the light fade from their eyes is satisfying.

The opposite of Matt Murdock. The crunch of bone rings hollow in his ears, but the absence of a pulse? That sends a resounding echo that shakes him at his core. Frank’s conscience doesn’t suffer the same. Doesn’t suffer at all except for a brief reminder that he stole someone’s father. The man may have been a shitstain, but he had been a father and he could at least understand that.

Somehow Karen lives with a foot in both worlds. A compromise, but always in the line of fire.

To Frank, she’s a glorious obstruction in the seemingly simple path of his own self-destruction. He wishes he could say her pull was stronger than the one saying to keep killing, but it isn’t. He’s like an addict with the next fix in sight.

The end comes unexpectedly. They’re sitting with knees touching on the bench in a park. Her eyes dart back and forth, glancing over her newspaper at the person of interest to both of them.  She’s speculating out loud and he’s not listening, the shadow of his cap covering his grim expression.

Maybe it’s the park-it’s not the one where his family died, but the environment still sends a chill through him. The laughter of children. The sunshine. (She knew when they sat down, sensing the tension that ran through him, but he insisted on staying).

Maybe it was how comfortable she was around him. The familiarity they now shared. An intimacy that he expected to die alongside his former self.

Maybe it was the gnawing fear that had been worming its way inside since seeing her standing on the street below that night.

Whatever it was. He just…couldn’t do it anymore. That impossible exhaustion that left him wanting to withdraw from life, returning. Creeping in.

The decision wasn’t calculated. Impulsivity was usually not his method of operation, but from the start he didn’t see how this thing they had could last. The decision was made and he knew she’d fight it. He couldn’t even argue that it was for her benefit. It was all for his own selfish gain.

He almost missed the target leaving. She didn’t however, and made a move to follow, but a firm grip on her arm stopped her.

“Let him go.” His voice is a cold command.

She sits back down, slowly. Worried. Biting her lip. “What’s going on Frank?” Her brow furrows in confusion, “You haven’t stopped talking about this guy for days.”

He doesn’t ease gently into the topic. When he speaks, it’s evenly paced and distant.

And it takes her breath away. Heart pounding and hands shaking. She tries to wrap her mind around the words. Tries to come up with a plan of action. To form some kind of response, but he’s completely blindsided her.

When he stops speaking, she grips his hand. Shutting her eyes in a futile, last attempt blot out the moment.

Her eyes flutter open at the realization that this is really happening. His tone is different than their previous arguments. Like he’d shut himself down completely.

He’d buried Frank Castle down deep in the grave. So much so that the shake of her shoulders accompanying her disbelief doesn’t move him. “You’re…you’re leaving me?”

He only nods. She balks when he breaks out of her grip. “Please don’t do this.”

It’s frightening to her, what he’s presenting. A living specter of a man she thought she knew. The thought is a shock to her system.

But she does know him. And when he’s overwhelmed…. scared. He runs.

“You fucking coward.” Laced with venom. Good, he thinks, ignoring her as he stands.

“I can’t lose you…I’ve lost so many people. Frank, _I can’t lose you too_.” It’s a desperate plea.

And he freezes with a jolt of recall of feverish nights, limbs twisted in sheets, and his mind rattled by the terror of reliving his family’s tragedy when he closes his eyes. That was most nights, but with increasing frequency and intensity the vision shifted to one of a red stain blooming over _her_ chest. 

And it haunts him. He’d tremble as he wakes, gasping. “I can’t lose you. I can’t-.” She rolls over speaking softly, “You won’t. You won’t lose me.” And she’d take his hand and place it over her heart. He’d feel it beating steady under his palm and drift back to sleep.

But now? Now he was pulling the goddamn trigger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeahhhh left this unresolved/withaweirdending. Do they stick with the endless cycle of “you should leave/we’re done” and then he comes back or is it final where they really don’t see each other again and Karen tries to move on. (that’s where I I was heading initially) but I don’t know haha. Started this at like 11:30 last night and I blame it all on this [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PVlC4gBMnuk)


	6. Oh, the reckoning begins

Frank’s heartbeat is surprisingly quiet, but there’s an unmistakable low, gallop to it. The extra beat along with the trace scent of iron-dried blood- and the low exhale give him away. With each step, Matt reminds himself of the intention he set when he tracked him down. He was here to talk. 

Just talk.

Which was not an easy task with Frank. Matt fully expected that he would clench his fist and grit his teeth in frustration, but he was resolute on his decision that wouldn’t throw a punch.

Or at least,he wouldn’t throw it first.

Frank was temporarily camped out on a rooftop, with a keen eye on a loading dock to a club on the street below. He stiffened, sensing a presence and draws the gun at his side.

Seeing red, he groaned, “Aw Jesus. Leave me alone.”

“Hello Frank.” He raises his hands, a gesture of peace, “I just came to talk.”

“What the hell do we have to talk about?” Frank’s glare was lost to Matt, but the growl of a question was not. He lowers the gun nonetheless. Frank may have come to Matt’s defense a few months ago, but they were not friends. They sure as shit weren’t allies. This guy was like a fucking splinter under the skin of his thumb. Irritating as hell.

“Karen.”

There’s the faintest fasciculation in Frank’s jaw. Matt cocks his head to the side, catching the sound. Frank loses the annoyance in his tone, settling with a low, serious sigh. “What about her?”

“Frank, she’s going after some pretty powerful people.” The intensity rises as his pace hastens, “Look, it’s not going to be long before she’s getting shot at again.”

Matt inhales sharply, and slows, remembering the events in Reyes’ office. Remembers Karen’s exclamation. _Matter of fact, he saved me._ “You obviously care about her on some level. You think she’ll be safe if she keeps this up?”

Frank ignores his assumption, quietly asking, “What do you expect me to do about it?”

“I figured you could talk with her.”

Frank laughed. An honest to God, genuine chuckle and he gives Matt an incredulous look when he catches his breath, “Let me ask you something, Red. You respect Karen?”

Matt falters with a slight hitch to his breath before he answers, “Yes. Yes, of course I do.”

“Yeah, you do?  Cause right now it looks like you’re talking to the wrong person about your concerns.” Frank shakes his head, resuming his appraisal of the activities on the street below and leaves Matt to his thoughts.

“She doesn’t want to see me.” His confession is quiet and wilted. A lost hope. Desperately trying to capture a fleeting memory of simpler times, well-it had never really been simple with Karen Page. It started bloody and with mistakes made in the shadows. Matt was more afraid now than ever that it would end in the same way.

Frank only sees the slight dip of disappointment in Matt’s face and he scoffs,  _Yeah, no shit Sherlock she doesn’t want to see you._ He shrugs instead. “Yeah, well that’s not my problem. That’s between the two of you. I’m not gonna play messenger for you. Not going to sit here and give you relationship advice either. All I’ll say is I’ve said my piece to her and she’s made her own choices.”

Matt sighs in defeat. “Guess I have my answer. Have a nice night Frank.”

\---  


When Frank sees Karen next, they meet in a quiet spot. A small park nestled deep in the city. The goal is always to keep the meetings short, but the conversation flows and the minutes pass them by. But when she checks her watch-her lunch break has been over for a half hour now (not that anyone’s keeping track)- she grabs for her bag and moves to stand. But she hesitates and sits back down, clearing her throat, “Matt dropped by to see me the other night.”

“Oh yeah?” Frank’s reply is nonchalant as he takes a sip of the coffee she brought.

“Thank you Frank.”

“For what?” He starts, blinking up at her and he can tell she’s serious, her gaze full of intent.

“For not speaking on my behalf.” She rises fully this time. “You’re an asshole, but you’re not a misogynistic asshole.”

He cracks a smile at that one. “Yeah, you can thank my mother for that.”

“You haven’t told me that story before.”

Frank points to her watch, “You’re late. Save it for another time.”

“I’m holding you to it. See you around, Frank.”

He stays on the bench and finishes his coffee, enjoying its bitterness. Watches her walk away, the clack of her heels on the old cobblestone fading as she drifts farther away. It all comes down to respect. That’s what he would’ve elaborated on had he given Matt the time. Frank may have told Karen to hold on with a tight grip- but on second thought, it shouldn’t be so tight that you strangle the life out of it. Of course he wanted her safe. No doubt about it that her actions gave a sick twist in his stomach.

But he wouldn’t suffocate her. She knows. Knows it all.

And he respects that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title comes from this wonderful [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UmtCz1a3ikc)  
> Thanks for reading :)


	7. Proposals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this [prompt list](http://fangirlinside.tumblr.com/post/138988449486/prompt-list)

She lets the thought she’d been ruminating on for a while now (a long while) slip one evening.

“Maybe we should get married.”

Frank snorts and sputters on the coffee he’d been drinking. With a few coughs, he wipes his mouth with his sleeve. Karen waits patiently, with crossed fingers.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t just hear that come out of your mouth.” His voice is hoarse, more rough than usual, thanks to her declaration.

She smirks, thinking, _you love my mouth,_ but bites her tongue. “It’s not what you think. Hear me out.”

Frank shakes his head. “You know I can’t do that. Won’t do that, Karen.”

Karen grimaces when she sees his pained expression. _Shit._ “I should have phrased that better. All I’m saying is it would be good from a legal standpoint.” Her tooth snags the bottom of her lip, suddenly nervous. “Spousal privilege. In case you get caught.”

Frank sighs. “You’re killing me here, Page.”

She ignores him “I know we’re careful, but with my articles and our past it wouldn’t take a genius…” Karen huffs, “I just want to be smart. Prepared. I wouldn’t have to testify against you.”

She swallows thickly. “Just throwing the thought out there. That’s all.”

Frank taps the mug quickly, lips pressed tight. Karen was trying to be smart. He could appreciate that (the smarter thing to do would be to end this, but it was too late for that now). She meant it as a formality, but it toed too close to the line for him. It’s not something he can even consider at the moment. He’s a “once married, always married” kind of guy. Maria will always be his wife.

Death can’t take that away.

“No.”

Karen nods and sips her tea, replying softly, “Alright then.” She moves onto a new topic. It’s abrupt and awkward.

They both pretend it’s a natural progression.


	8. That I should rise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So let’s pretend Frank and Karen aren’t as buddy buddy/close as they usually are in the other one-shots[hence the extra level of angst].  
> So much fun writing Claire!

Karen woke with a gasp; the suffocating feeling broke her out of a sleepy daze. She glanced around, eyes wild. Mind still foggy as she took in the familiar sight of her apartment. She was in her bed. It was night.

There was a gentle pressure of two fingers on her wrist. Karen ripped her arm out of the stranger’s grasp.

“Hey, hey. You’re alright. You’re safe.” The voice was commanding, but kind. A woman’s.

“My name’s Claire. I’m a nurse. I help out Matt and Frank sometimes.” Claire sat on the edge of the bed.

Karen blinked blearily, pushing herself up off the mattress.

“Take it slow.”

“I-I don’t even remember…” She squeezed her eyes shut tight and took a shaky breath, “how did I get here?” Her head was pounding and pain radiated down her side. She lifted up her shirt and gave a breathy laugh of shock at the bruise blossoming across her ribs. “I was out working on an assignment….”

Claire nodded, “Well, if you call traipsing through supposedly abandoned buildings ‘work’ then yes, you were working on an assignment.”

Karen pushed her back against the head board and grimaced. “It used to be the old office space of the people I’m looking into for my article. I wanted to check it out…sometimes things get missed.”

The look Claire gave her was skeptical, “You’re not concerned about trespassing?”

She let out a sound of amusement, “No, broke that rule a while ago. Hasn’t really stopped me since-Ahh,” she broke mid-sentence, discovering another tender point when she leaned her head against the wall.

“Yeah. Might want to avoid that. Here.” Claire pressed an icepack near the base of her skull.

“I uh, I could use your help filling in the rest, assuming Matt or Frank-whoever called you- filled you in.”

Claire passed off the icepack into Karen’s hand and settled back on the bed. She really needed to stop answering calls from unknown numbers. Or maybe she should just turn off her phone after her shift in general. Who was she kidding? As much as she complained, she’d never been good at turning her back on people in trouble-even if it meant risking her own ass.

“Apparently whoever you’re investigating had something to hide. They had a guard watching the place. Nasty guy according to Frank. Your memories fuzzy because he pistol whipped you-which knocks us normal folk out- and gave you a good kick in the ribs. That’s about when Frank made his entrance.”

Karen gulped. Claire noticed and raised her eyebrows, “Yeah. That guy’s not breathing anymore. He called me. Told me to meet him here and he left after I finished checking you out.”

“Thank you for doing this Claire.” She lets the ice pack settle on the bed and sighs, “He honestly could have left me outside the nearest ER.”

“Eh, tell him that next time.” Karen looked away. Next time.

“You don’t seem to have a concussion so that’s good, but let me have another look at your eyes.”

Claire pulled out her penlight, fixing her gaze on Karen’s eyes as she shined the light.

“So, how did you even meet Frank?” Karen asked as she followed Claire’s fingers.

She snorted at the question, “Matt made the introductions. You know, as much as they seem to be on opposite side, those two can be surprisingly civil. Anyway, one of Frank’s old wounds got infected. Matt-being Matt,” she muttered under her breath, “noticed it in the early stages. I helped get Frank some antibiotics.”

Karen nodded wordlessly.

Claire reached down and swung her bag up on the bed. She continued speaking as she dug through the black bag, “You know he really cares about you.”

“What?”

Claire gave her a knowing smile, pulling out a bottle of acetaminophen, “He rarely calls me. Doesn’t seem to need my help usually. But tonight? You should have seen him when he carried you in here.” Karen blushed and Claire laughed, “He hovered too.. Paced around the bed when I was looking you over. Very…” she pursed her lips, thinking of the word and puffed out her chest before settling on “terse… but still respectful” She shrugged, leaning towards Karen to continue her assessment, gently palpating around the bruised area. “I almost forgot.” She paused her ministrations and gestured to a piece of paper on the bedside table. “He left you a note. A few key names he got out of the guy before…”.

It didn’t need to be said.

Karen picked up the note slowly. Reading over the names and tidbits of information, she didn’t spare a thought as to their implications. Instead, she took in the neat scrawl, committing it to memory. Doing her best to stop thinking about the hands that wrote them.

“He cares about you.” Claire repeated.

Karen only gave a fleeting, sad smile before setting the note back down. She tasted blood. The small motion had reopened her split lip.

She knew of course. How could she not? He looked out for her. Still. From a distance.

And tonight, the one time he was close, she was unconscious. Typical.

Claire stopped her prodding, taking in Karen’s silence and wistful expression. “Karen. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply anything. Shit. This is why I work ER not psych.”

Karen looked up, seeing the other woman’s grim look. “No, no it’s fine. We just don’t actually talk that much.” The desire of all that she can’t have lingers in her voice. “It just won’t be anything more than what it is and I have to… accept that.” Karen swallows hard at the bitterness in her voice. “It’s..ugh, she inhaled sharply, willing back the tears that were welling up. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.” Claire softly interrupted.

Claire met her gaze, her expression sympathetic and understanding. “I know what you mean. I really do. And I’m sorry for it. For us both”

Those few days after she’d kissed Matt had been rough. To have had-for a brief moment-something tangible after weeks of telling silences. No longer a clinical touch, but a caress.

Not that it lasted. She walked away. And she’d do it again. The kind of shit she saw day to day, well that hardens you. You see chance to avoid that kind of fate? You leave while you still can.

Matt and all that he came with was slightly addicting, but she’d hit rock bottom and made her choice. She’d answer his calls. Accept his random pleas for help when he needed it.

But that would be all.

Claire glanced back at Karen, but she was staring off out the window.

What a cruel fate, Claire thought, to love those who can’t return it.


	9. Mornings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slightly mature rating for this drabble bit in the next 3 chapters  
> [part 1 of 3]

He comes to her just before dawn, bone tired and bruised. He’s always careful. Always. She stirs when he enters the bedroom. Bending low to untie the laces to his boots, he glances up when he sees her turn her head blearily. He can’t help but smile at the blond mess of her hair as she groans when she sees the time.

He showers quickly. Scrubbing off the blood, the sweat, and the grime of the night’s work. When he joins her, sinking into the mattress for another three, maybe four hours, she sighs with content. She leans into him as he wraps his arms around her and rests his chin in the crook of her shoulder.

When he starts to trail his lips down, she giggles. It turns to a gasp when he shifts his weight and the soft, languid kisses explore past her navel. Her stomach clenches and her breath hitches when his mouth meets his mark.

She’s not giggling anymore. Her hands clench the sheets and she lifts her head up to watch him. He looks up at her and gives a dark smile. She moans when he resumes the familiar task.

He takes his time. Takes it slow. The muscles in her legs start to quiver and he wraps a hand around her thigh in a tight grip.

Her back arches as her hips rise to meet him.

He sits back on his heels and watches her fall apart. When she quiets and stills, she opens her eyes. A sea of blue stares back at him.

Her voice is thick with emotion, “Good morning.”

The corner of his mouth turns up with a small smile, “Good morning.”

 The taste of her still heavy on his tongue.


	10. Scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued from chapter 9  
> [part 2 of 3]

She pulls him back to her and he settles on his side facing her. Brushing her hair off her temple, his thumb passes over a scar. It’s small, the barest hint of white, only the slight raise in the skin gives it away.

“What’s this from?” He murmurs as she glances up at him, her eyes wide. Before she answers she takes his hand and kisses his bruised knuckles before replying softly.

“From the car crash that night.”

He stiffens and attempts pull back.

She doesn’t let him. Her grip on his hand strong.

“Frank.”

She sees him swallow, as he avoids her gaze. She sits up with him. Noting the look of guilt on his face as he pushes himself against the headboard.

She repeats his name, but he won’t look at her. Only stares at his hands.

Sighing heavily, she climbs into his lap, legs draping over his.

He instinctively grips her waist.

“We all have scars Frank.” She says as she takes a thumb to his chin, tilting his head up-finally catching his eye. “And that’s one I’m happy to carry.”

His silence is telling. She knows his cues.

“You see it as some failure on your part. I call it a success. That crash saved my life Frank. I would’ve met a worse fate if you-,”

His hands tighten on her waist and he clenches his jaw, not willing to imagine the alternative. Her voice, so steady, so sure, continued. “So I won’t have you blaming yourself.”

She smiles fondly. “Besides, you already paid for the damage to my care. I call that even.”

He finally responds, clearing his throat. The fear of loss passes, fading from the foreground of his thoughts. “You got more?”

“What?”

“Scars.”

She laughs. God, he loves her laugh. The real one-not out of sarcasm or frustration-but of pure, carefree joy.

“Of course! Like this one.” She points to a jagged mark on her near her elbow. “This was high school volleyball. Took a little slide.” She motioned with her hand. “Shit it burned so bad.”

“Yeah? I bet.” He chuckles.

She taps on a pattern on his forearm. He raises an eyebrow. “That. That was a dog bite.”

“Max?” She asks. He smiles, “No. Long before Max. Always been a dog guy-,” She interrupts “Yeah I figured.”

He rolls his eyes, “-and sometimes I was a little too eager about saying hello. I was six. Had to get the shot and everything.”

“Mmm.”

He catches the glimmer in her eyes as she glances at the clock. Plenty of time.

“Now. The real question.”

“What’s that?”

She bites her lip, “You gonna let me return the favor?”

Seeing his Adam’s apple bob, she grins. It’s no longer fear that makes him swallow hard.

It’s anticipation.


	11. Compliments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [part 3 of 3] final bit to this little morning sequence of the last two chapters

She won’t lie, there’s a certain thrill to hearing Frank muttering out curses as she works him over the edge.  Something about seeing his control break-even if just for a moment- makes her own heart race.

Still beating hard and fast when she finishes and starts to undress, taking off her tank top (her underwear was buried underneath the covers…somewhere…. lost during their morning activities).

“Ok, but now I seriously have to hustle or I’m going to be late.”

She looks over at him when he doesn’t answer, an arm draped over his eyes, his breath heavy. “Frank? You good?”

Frank gave a satisfied groan, “Ma’am, no offense. But that is a stupid ass question.”

He was good.

She chuckles as she grabs her black tights from the floor and sits on the end of the bed, rolling them on.

He turns onto his stomach, watching her dress hastily. She stares at herself critically in the mirror and he shakes his head. _Goddamn, she doesn’t even know._

“Karen.” Fiddling with her necklace, she turns to him. “What?”

“You look great.”

It’s nothing really. Just a simple compliment, but it’s the sincerity in his voice that makes her blush. Fucking him? Writhing under his touch? Her pale complexion doesn’t change.

But a few kind words and an intent look from him and her cheeks flush. It’s ridiculous. Or so she thinks.

She’s sliding into her heels when he starts to speak and then hesitates. “You know-if circumstances were different I’d take you out, do the whole dating gig and all that.” He pauses and shakes his head, “Shit. What I’m trying to say is I’m not one of those guys who just drops by for sex or to get something from you. I want you to know that.” His voice is rough.

Ignoring the risk of wrinkling her dress, she kneels in front of him by the side of the bed. “I know that. Of course I know that.” She traces his cheek and he nuzzles the palm of her hand, “I like to think -given all the shit- we make it work. Besides, I was counting all the coffee and take out as dates so you’re in the clear.”

She rises and grabs a few files off her dresser. “You’re a good man Frank.”

He rolls his eyes and scoffs. She huffs in response.

“Whatever. But you are and I know you’re not taking advantage of me ok? So don’t worry about it.”

She swats him on the ass with a folder and winks at him before she leaves the bedroom, calling out “But I appreciate you saying all that.”

He gets up from the bed with a sheet around his waist and heads to the kitchen to make coffee, handing her a full travel mug when she comes out of the bathroom.

Pausing at the apartment door, she peers around the corner into the kitchen “Hey, don’t forget to try and get me that info from that shithead tonight? Before you uh, take care of him?” It’s not that she was losing her sensitivity to any part of what he did…. but the guy he was after tonight. Real sick bastard. She wasn’t going to sweat it.

He nods, drinking from his own mug and gestures with a wave of his hand for her to go.

She smirks as she gives him one last once over . He pauses mid sip “What?”

“You’re losing your toga there.” And he hears the door click shut as he realizes that indeed, the sheet wrapped around his waist is sagging dangerously low around his hips.

He mumbles a quiet “Cheeky” to the empty apartment before taking another sip of his coffee.


	12. Breathe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorty!   
> Prompt #47 " We go on three" From this fabulous [list](http://faithfulwhispers.tumblr.com/post/143302966236/send-me-a-number-and-a-paring-and-ill-write-a)

“Tell me when you do it ok?” She speaks through clenched teeth, her shoulder slumped and arm resting at her side. The pain radiates and she clutches the comforter tight. Karen stares up at the vast white of her bedroom ceiling.

Frank sits in a chair at her side. Now is not the time to ponder the conflicting nature of Frank Castle, but it’s a distracting thought that she happily follows. How can a man who inspires fear in so many, be one of the few things keeping her calm?

“I’m not going to wrench it back in Karen. I’m going to go slow. Don’t hold your breath, yeah? Keep breathing slow.”

She relaxes her jaw and starts to take some deep breaths in and out through her mouth.

“Just like that. Good.” His eyes don’t leave hers and she starts to relax under his gaze. There’s an intensity to it. Like he’d take her pain on. Take the blow for her if he could.

She only notices now that his thumb has been brushing softly over her thigh all along.

“I’m going to start. We go on three.” She nods and watches him as he counts down. One hand supports her elbow, the other starts to guide her arm into a ninety- degree angle. Karen hisses as he rotates her arm away from her body.

He pauses and looks up at her, giving her a quiet command, “Breathe Karen.”

She hadn’t realized she’d stopped, releasing the breath she’d been holding, he moves again.  A gasp runs through her when she feels the pop and then a sigh as the pain eases up.

“You’re a hell of a trooper Ma’am”. Frank says as he places the ice pack on her shoulder.

She laughs and sits up with a  breathless, “Let’s not do that again.”


	13. Legacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #9 "There's a leaf in your hair" From this fabulous [list](http://faithfulwhispers.tumblr.com/post/143302966236/send-me-a-number-and-a-paring-and-ill-write-a)

The park is empty today. The carousel still and quiet as storm brews above. The wind picks up, but Frank stays rooted in position on the bench facing the colorful animals frozen in motion. A tempting thought has been running through his mind lately.

One that suggests maybe he should stop returning to the scene of the crime. The only crime scene that really matters to him.

The sound of clicking heels draws his attention to the blond walking towards him. She joins him on the bench, not waiting for an invitation. “Thought I’d find you here.” Karen leans back and stares ahead, taking in sight of the abandoned park.

They sit silently. He doesn’t care to count the minutes. She doesn’t either.

When she glances at him, she starts to reach her hand out.

He flinches back, voice hard, “What are you doing?” caught off guard by her touch.

She gives him a small smile, “There’s a leaf in your hair.” And she plucks it out by its stem and lets it flutter to the ground. It’s a meaningless gesture.

Karen sits back against the bench. Thunder breaks and she startles.

Frank takes her hand in his and they sit together until it pours.


	14. Is this happiness?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slightly naughtier take on #9 "There's a leaf in your hair"
> 
> From this fabulous [list](http://faithfulwhispers.tumblr.com/post/143302966236/send-me-a-number-and-a-paring-and-ill-write-a)

Normalcy, it seems, is really what one makes of it. Karen’s and Frank’s relationship was anything but conventional in the sense that it’s a bad idea to be involved with a criminal. Not just any criminal, a murderer. A man of with the capability for incredible violence.

It wasn’t something she dwelled on for too long. Didn’t want to think about what a psychiatric evaluation would reveal about her, but she was fully aware of the seriousness of her choices. Always had been.

But it’s hard to argue with your heart. Even harder when your mind’s been made up.

It’s rare, but sometimes they do normal things. Like take walks in the woods near the cabin he’s been using as an extra hide out. It’s nice to get out of the city once in a while. She always wears her boots when she comes to visit.

They make their own path walking through the woods, trading childhood stories when the sound of a shot rings out. Frank pushes Karen to the ground and glances around, eyes wild, trying to determine a location.

It takes a minute for the realization to sink in that it’s nowhere nearby.  “Sorry. Must be hunters. Saw them posting signs around. Deer season.” He pulls her up off the ground and she starts brushing herself off. He starts to walk back towards the cabin.  

Noting his look of chagrin, Karen pulls him aside.

“Frank. It’s ok. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.” He only nods.

She steps closer, “Saved my life the first time. I can handle a little dirt on my jeans.” And she earns a smile.

Karen wraps her arms around his neck and his hands rest on her waist as she backs up against a tree, rolling her hips against his.

“You want to do this here?”

“What? Not up for a little rough outdoor sex?” She flashes a smile.  

“It’s a little adventurous.” He jokes.

“Enough with the excuses.”

Frank gives a low growl, and it’s a flurry of motion, his hands pull her shirt out of the waistband of her jeans as he kisses her hard. She unbuckles his belt before pushing her own jeans down.

He lifts her up and she wraps her legs around his waist and he braces her against the tree. She hisses at the sting of her skin brushing against the bark.

She did say rough.

By the time they finish they’re both breathing hard. Frank smooths her hair out and laughs.

“What?” She asks as she buttons up.

“Nothing. There’s a leaf in your hair.”


	15. Take my hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CRUCIAL that you listen to the Twenty One Pilot's cover of Can't help Falling in Love
> 
> #40 “You call that music?”#21 “Why are you laughing? #26 “You think you could do better?”
> 
> From this fabulous [list](http://faithfulwhispers.tumblr.com/post/143302966236/send-me-a-number-and-a-paring-and-ill-write-a)

It felt so good to let go and just _move_ -mindlessly dance to songs about meaningless sex and poor life choices. Two things she was intimately familiar with.

The bass pounded and pulsed through her and she let it consume her, almost forgetting the blond dancing next to her.

When Trish Walker had suggested she join her at the new club that had invited her as a VIP guest, Karen almost blew her off. “It’s not my scene.”

“Karen-it’s one night. We have a few drinks. Dance for an hour or two and leave! C’mon, you deserve to have a little fun.”

Her argument had been convincing enough that earlier that night she showed up at Trish’s apartment, borrowed a very tight and very short dress and had one or two shots before they took the complimentary limo to the club.

But that was hours ago. Karen tapped Trish on the arm, pointing to her wrist. Trish nodded and the two made for the door.

By the time Karen stepped into her apartment her feet were killing her. It wasn’t a surprise to see Frank sitting on her couch, the T.V volume on low.

“Late night for you Ma’am.” If her outfit comes as a surprise to him, he did a damn good job of hiding it.

“Yeah, impromptu invite to go dancing at a new club. It was nice.” She unzipped the back of the dress slightly, “ Good music. The bar wasn’t bad either.”

She joined him on the couch, throwing her hair into a messy bun.

“You call that music?”

“Huh?” Karen turned to face him. He repeated his question. “You call that shit they play music?” It’s a teasing tone. One that she’s used to and she rolled her eyes. “For dancing purposes, yes I call that music.” Tucking her legs, she rested her head on her hand.

There’s a light in his eyes, “You’re doing the wrong kind of dancing then.”

She smiled sleepily, “You’ll have to show me the proper way to dance tomorrow night. I’m all” a yawn interrupts her, “ugh, I’m all danced out at the moment.”

He’d never seen her so tired. It was actually pathetic and he couldn’t hold in the laugh. The confused look she gave him only made it worse. “Why are you laughing?” Karen grumbled, turning away from him, but he pulled her in close. “Nothing sweetheart, nothing at all.” She nuzzled his chest, mumbling, “You think you could do better?”

“What’s that?” He asked, stroking her arm.

“The dress, the heels, the alcohol? You think you’d be in a better state than me?” Karen shifted and felt his laugh. “No, no I don’t suppose I’d be much better.”

“Thought so.”

He watched her breathing slow and her eyes flutter in her sleep. The woman stretched out before him made his heart ache in a way he never thought he’d feel again. She had a hold on him like only one before her.

And she didn’t know the extent of it.

Karen Page made him want to be a better man.


	16. Hideaway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #33 “We’re running low on time here”  
> From this fabulous [list](http://faithfulwhispers.tumblr.com/post/143302966236/send-me-a-number-and-a-paring-and-ill-write-a)

The closet under the stairs might have been spacious if they were twelve and not full grown adults.

“This was a terrible idea.” It’s muttered under her breath. The space is too small for it to go unnoticed.

“You’re acting like it was mine.” A low growl.

Frank sounded equally enthused at their current situation.

He gave up trying to stand a while ago, opting to sit leaning against the wall, legs pulled in as far as he could manage as Karen listened to the sound of glasses clinking and laughter.

“The house was supposed to be empty! One or two guys at most, not a damn party!” She huffed.  Glancing back at him, she expected to see his usual intensity, but he only shrugged. “Sometimes you gotta just wait it out. Not my first time being in a tight spot. Just be patient.”

It was a soft spoken conversation. One of hushed tones.

Her ass was practically in his face _. Jesus, this was just great._

She awkwardly turned around and faced him, back pressed against the door. They had entered the house from one of the many ground level entrances. Karen had started to snoop while Frank kept an eye on the door.  When footsteps started to approach, he held her hand in a tight grip as they moved through the next room into the hall-only to hear voices coming closer. Incoming from both sides. He tensed when Karen muttered “We’re running low on time here” and made a split decision. Keeping one hand on the semiautomatic, he released his hold on Karen and opened the door, shoving her inside before following into the closet.

That was two hours ago.

Karen brushed away the beads of sweat from her forehead, “How are you so calm about this?”

And he did look calm, completely at ease. Like he wasn’t trapped. “We’ll figure it out. Can’t go out the way we came in obviously. We wait till it quiets down and then make our way out.” Frank shifts and rubs his eyes, “Only problem is if someone comes looking for” he gestures at the boxes lining the shelves, “whatever the hell is in here.”

“Yeah, not exactly like we can blend in. Can’t pull the whole ‘hook up in a closet’ excuse.”

He laughed softly, eyes raking over her jeans and army green jacket. His army green jacket. “You should’ve packed a cocktail dress.”

She rolled her eyes before she started to take off the jacket. “Seeing as we’re going to be in here for a while, might as well not melt before we get a chance to run.” Karen held out an arm, expectantly. Frank tugged on the sleeve and she took off the jacket with a sigh of relief.

Frank’s eyes tracked the path of the sweat droplet sliding down her neck before it slid under her shirt, no longer in view. He turns his head away and swallows hard. _Now was not the fucking time for distractions._

_Or maybe it was. They had time to kill._ He pushed the thought aside. He’d been growing too comfortable around her. Barriers were breaking down and that was a dangerous thing.

“What are you thinking about?” Karen asks curiously. He glances up sharply to the perceptive question.

She shrugs at his reaction, “You just look….conflicted.”

“It’s nothing. You got the time.”

Karen narrows her eyes at him before begrudgingly pulling out her phone. “3 am.”

“You should try and get some sleep. I’ll wake you when we’re clear to move.”

She laughs, quietly of course, “You think I can sleep in here?” The idea seems silly, but then her eyes feel heavy and thirty minutes later she’s drifting asleep.

Frank watches her fade and knows his suggestion was selfish, offering him a short reprieve from temptation.

An hour later the sounds of the party die down and he shifts his position, waking Karen.

“Alright. Time to give this a go.”


	17. Leave me to dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt # 15 "Shhh they'll hear us"  
> From this fabulous [list](http://faithfulwhispers.tumblr.com/post/143302966236/send-me-a-number-and-a-paring-and-ill-write-a)
> 
> Song title from Imagine Dragon's Dream

The whimper rips from her throat and she presses her mouth harder into the pillow to drown out the sound. Frank slows his pace, “Let me hear you, Karen.”

She shakes her head, pulling him closer, so she can reach the spot on his neck, just below his jaw. She smirks before she traces her tongue over his pulse point, nipping at the skin. He groans. Loudly.

“Shhh” she giggles, “they’ll hear us.” It’s breathless and there’s an air of satisfaction to her voice.

Frank grins mischievously at her comment, running a hand down her leg, he hikes her thigh up higher around his waist. She gasps at the change in angle and moans when he resumes his pace. The sounds she makes are anything but quiet.

His lips caress her breast and the vibration of his voice against her skin gives her goosebumps. “They’re fast asleep. Promise. Besides, I put in that door knob with the lock.”

“God I love you.”

The talk dies down between them as he brings her closer to the edge. And in that brief second before she comes apart, she recognizes her own happiness. Finally, her life has settled. All the moments, the terror and the mistakes lead them to this point. Despite their flaws, life gave them something precious in return-a family.

Her back arches off the bed, pressing her body closer to his. Heart to heart.

He trembles with her, whispering her name in the darkness.

But then white noise and a slow fade into black swallows up her senses.

Karen wakes from the dream with tears in her eye. She wipes them away quickly, holding back a sob as Frank pulls her closer in his sleep.

It was them. In the dream. So vivid and surreal. Almost like an old memory. Sometimes the children made an appearance. A boy and a girl.

Always faceless. Always out of her reach. But she knew they were beautiful and that they were loved.

It’s a newfound desire for her, wanting to have children. She wants a family and it hurts knowing she’s chasing something she can never have. Not with him at least.

With him, it’s a life that can only be lived in dreams.


	18. Roadside Assistance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #36 Don't move it'll be ok  
> From this fabulous [list](http://faithfulwhispers.tumblr.com/post/143302966236/send-me-a-number-and-a-paring-and-ill-write-a)

“Aw hell. Please start. Please start.”

The car sputters and dies. Karen lets her head fall against the steering wheel. Pretty blond parked on the side of the street? She was a sitting duck in this neighborhood and certainly wasn’t going to find someone to jump start her car. The .380 was in her purse, but glass could break and it wouldn’t take much to out muscle or out gun her.

At least the meeting with her most recent source for her story had gone well, but this definitely put a damper in her night. She pulled out her phone and dialed the number of the only person she knew around this side of town.

“You home?” Her voice sounds light, but she’s anything but optimistic.

“Yeah. What do you need?” Frank’s voice is gruff. And tired. She wonders what kept him in tonight. Usually this would have been the peak of his nighttime activities .

Whatever the reason, it worked out in her favor.

“I’m in the neighborhood and my car’s dead. Wondered if you wouldn’t mind waiting with me while the tow truck comes? Just not a fan of being stuck in one spot for too long you know?” Her teeth catch her bottom lip.

“Yeah, don’t move. It’ll be ok.” The sound of his door shutting in the background is a comfort. “I’m leaving now. Where are you?” She gave him the cross streets,

“You want to stay on the line while I head over?” The concern in his voice makes her throat feel tight.

“Yeah, Frank I’d appreciate it.”

They chat for a few minutes. She tells him about her night and the upcoming story. He tells her how Max has been under the weather and he didn’t have the heart to leave. Before she can respond, there’s a tap on her window and she smiles and hangs up at the sight of him outside the car.

He hangs his arms on the side of the car, peeking in when she rolls down her window. “Car trouble Ma’am”.

It makes her laugh and eases her restlessness. “Pop the hood and I’ll take a look. See if you actually need that tow truck.”

She does and joins him in front of the car, eyeing him as he rolls up his sleeves, muttering to himself as he checks out the connections. The sight takes her back to his home. She pictures him getting out the tool box, fixing a leak at the sink while Maria admired the view.  Imagines his hands dirty with grime as he checks the oil in his truck. Sees him show Frank Jr. and Lisa the different types of screw drivers.

“Try to start it again.”

Karen blinks away the scene in her mind and gets back in the driver’s seat and turns the key.

The car starts and Frank slams the hood shut. “I’d take it in tomorrow. Make sure there’s nothing else going on.”

He leans on the edge of the window again, “You good to get home now?”

“Yeah. Thank you Frank.”

Frank waves a hand. “Ain’t nothing Ma’am. You text me when you get back safe.”

“I will.” She promises, giving one last smile of thanks before driving away. 

If she looked in the rear view, she’d see his silhouette, walking comfortably alone before fading into the shadows.  


	19. Take my whole life too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow up to chapter 15  
> #20 "You're too damn cute"  
> from this fabulous [list](http://faithfulwhispers.tumblr.com/post/143302966236/send-me-a-number-and-a-paring-and-ill-write-a)

She honestly forgot about her challenge to him. Blamed her poor memory on exhaustion and the alcohol. That was, at least until the night she came in to find him dancing in her kitchen. Then she remembered her words very clearly. 

His back was turned to her, washing dishes in the sink. His hips swayed to Elvis growling about his blue suede shoes.

The sight made her extremely thankful that she’d stumbled upon her box of CD’s a few weeks ago while on the search for a certain pair of heels. It was tucked away in the back of her closet, and when she opened it, she got swept up in a wave of nostalgia. Some of them discs were Kevin’s, some were her Dad’s that she’d swiped when she packed up for college. Most were hers. Tokens from her past.

That day she’d carried the box out, forgetting her hunt for the heels.

The CD player she’d bought on a whim at the thrift shop now seemed worth a million bucks not the five dollars she actually paid for it.

She clapped a hand over her mouth, but a giggle managed to escape. “You’re too damn cute!”

He turned around with a look of surprise. “Jesus, Karen you scared the shit out of me.”

Karen struggled to keep her smile polite and not a giddy grin as she sidled up to him. “You must be going soft if I can sneak up on the Punisher.”

He rolled his eyes, “Thought you were getting back later.”

“I finished up early.” Her eyes were bright and she gave in to a full smile, noting the trace of a red flush creeping in to his completion.

He moved to press pause, but she caught his hand, “No, leave it on.”

There was a glint of trouble in his eyes and he grabbed her hand and spun her before guiding her back to him, their hips rocking side to side. The hand on her waist was gentle.

The movements may have been simple, but there was confidence in his gait and in his ability to lead her. “Where the hell did you learn to dance?” She didn’t try to hide the incredulity in her voice.

His mouth twitched in a smile, not taking the bait, before he replied, “Oh, I’m full of surprises Ma’am.”

Frank pulled her close and they quieted and slowed as the song changed- they slowed their dance to match to the lilting melody that filled the small kitchen.

_Wise men say only fools rush in_  
But I can’t help falling in love with you  
Shall I stay  
Would it be a sin  
If I can’t help falling in love with you

Karen closed her eyes and sighed with content, her hand captured in his, dancing cheek to cheek with a contradiction. The hint of her vanilla shampoo struck Frank. It was the smallest detail, but he’d recognize it anywhere. It felt strange-being with her, like he had one foot planted in the past. Almost as if the memories were just a breath away. But at the same time, he was present. With her. And it felt like he had the whole future within a fingertips reach.

_Take my hand, take my whole life too. For I can’t help falling in love with you. For I can’t help falling in love with you._

He whispered the lyrics to her, a mere flutter of words that gave her hope amidst uncertainty.

The song ended, the last track on the CD. He held her close still, marveling at how right she felt in his arms. 

He wouldn’t let go so easily this time.


	20. Father's Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little bit of angsty drabble

The italic font in the square box of her calendar was etched in her brain. 

_Father’s Day._

More like it was bolded in her mind and this year, it wasn’t because of her own failings as a daughter. Her restless thoughts rested with a man, probably holed up in his apartment pouring over a map of the city-bruised and broken, trying to fight away ghosts. 

It’s not easy being Frank Castle.

Especially today. 

The sinking feeling made her walk a little faster to his apartment. 

It’s the realization that makes her heart ache when she hears him stumble to the door, alcohol heavy on his breath.

Makes his word sting when he mumbles “The fuck do you want?”

(Though she knows it’s not really about her) 

She straightens and pushes past him and works to sober him up, ignoring the glares and protests. 

But when his voice breaks, hoarse with emotion, and the words spill from his lips-of the few Father’s days he was present and the memories of his children, so far and fleeting. He can’t meet her gaze. 

The bravado is gone. 

It’s her who takes him in her arms and holds him close. 

It’s her who feels his shoulders shake as he remembers their voices, excited as they bring him breakfast in bed. The way his eyes light up as he glanced at Maria, tears welling up in her own at the sight of her children fawning over their father.

It’s her who tells him that he is and always will be a father. And that he is loved. 

They stand, wrapped tight, until he lets go. 


	21. Here's to hoping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fic request: I'd love to see Karen and Claire at a bar discussing their relationships with Matt and Castle.

“We should have done this sooner. Like way sooner.” Claire spoke before taking a sip of her beer. The condensation on the bottle slipping in her palms.

Karen nodded, “God yes.” She didn’t explain how this was the first time that she’s really sat down and just hung out with another woman since well….a long time. No, she wasn’t going to mention her lack of female friends.  

She was getting better though. Her coworkers were friendly and started including her in their coffee break discussions. But a quick fill up on coffee wasn’t a beer at a bar (not Josie’s) and it’s not like she truly opened up to them.  

She couldn’t.

At least she and Claire had some common ground. It had been a blessing in disguise (a bruising, painful, and frustrating disguise…but still) that Frank had dropped her off at Claire’s that night because it didn’t take long for them to strike up a friendship. And Karen was grateful for it.

“You still job hunting?” Karen asked her friend who was leaning casually against the bar, slumped on the stool. Claire straightened, “No actually. Got an offer from a clinic. Should be good. Decent pay. Better scheduling.”

“You, uh, hoping for some more free time….” Karen continued.

Claire rolled her eyes and finished her sentence, “to take care of our mutual friends. Yeah. Yeah I am.” Karen swallowed her scotch and waited for her to continue.

“Matt’s been coming around more frequently. In a real tough place right now and as hard as it is,” Claire sighed, rubbing her eyes, “it’d be cruel to turn him away. He asks about you, you know?”

Karen hummed, “And what do you tell him?”

Claire shrugged, “That he treated you like shit and to give you time. I think we both know he can be a little sensitive.” She winked and took the last swig of her beer.

Karen brushed back her hair, and bit her lip, “This isn’t weird for you right? That Matt and I dated and you…” She gestured to the other woman who was looking at her, eyebrows raised.

“That I may or may not falling hard for your ex? No, I think we’re mature enough to handle that. Besides, it’s complicated.” Claire grimaced, “and honestly probably not going anywhere. The guy’s got commitment issues.” She stared at the bottle in her hands for a quiet moment, wondering why the hell she was putting herself through something most likely doomed to fail. _Maybe I’m just a little bit of a masochist._ _Only a little._

She shook her head and smiled, pushing away the thought. “Besides, you’ve got your own man. Who, by the way, dropped by to see me the other night. Needed some help with a dislocated shoulder.

_Goddammit Frank._ Karen gritted her teeth, “I told you it’s not like tha-,”

Claire interrupted her with a huff, “Jesus, Karen. I’m telling you. This guy. Your guy.” She smiled, “he’s about as subtle as that skull on his chest.”

The scotch burned in her throat as she coughed on it. “Shit Claire.” She sputtered, “keep your voice down.”

Claire waved a hand at the small crowd in the bar, “This crowd? Please.” There was a low rumble as all eyes were glued to the game on the small screen above the bar.

She continued, unconcerned, “He clearly cares about you. Asks about you too, in so many words. But like I said. Subtlety? Not really his specialty. I flat out called him out on it. He didn’t appreciate that, but the blush he got was really cute by the way.”

Karen grinned, “Really? He blushed.”

Claire nodded with a knowing smile. “So say what you want. Maybe it will just take some time.”

“Well, I could say the same to you.”

Claire grunted, “Here’s to hoping.”

“Here’s to time.” Karen raised her glass and clinked it against Claire’s empty bottle and they both laughed. Karen finished her scotch and steered the conversation away from vigilantes into simpler territory.


	22. "No sugar in my coffee"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on a song prompt ("No Sugar in my Coffee by Caught a Ghost") from the ever talented @evilbunnyking

He was methodical in his preparation. Had always seen the link between organization and efficiency. He’d say he had a tendency towards order even before the military.

Now he supposed someone would just see his actions as prone to chaos. He wouldn’t disagree completely, but if asked he would say he conducted his days with a simple routine.

First: Coffee. Black, no sugar. Piping hot.

Second: Feed the dog.

Third: Review. (Maps, strategy, checking magazines, confirming head counts, and pick up times).

Fourth: Walk the dog.

Fifth: Follow through and finish the job.

Sixth: Walk away intact…relatively intact.

After that? Things were a little less predictable. Things usually were with Ms. Page. Maybe he liked that about her. Sometimes he finds her at the café near her apartment, staring fixatedly at the screen in front of her.

“You’re killing your eyes,” he muttered once, finishing up the cup of coffee she had bought him.

She had raised an eyebrow at him, responding with a “I think I’ll live” and a mocking smile before returning to her typing.  

Tonight he catches her coming out of the office. Her pace slows as she recognizes him and she walks towards him.

“It’s late, Karen.” As close to a greeting as she’ll get, but he’s there. That’s what matters.

Karen shouldered her purse, her keys jingling in her hand. “Yeah, well. Stories don’t sleep.”

“That’s cute. C’mon.” He ushers her to her car and walks with her silently. She smiles faintly at the sensation of his hand at the small of her back, gently guiding her.

He holds open the door for her as she sinks into the seat. She glances up, “You, uh, want to come back?” She nods in the direction of her apartment.

Frank hesitates. An agreement almost slipping out. He can see there’s hope in her eyes.

“No..No I’d better head back.”

“Sure. Yeah.” She recovers well. Karen pauses before she giving him a small smile, “Let me give you a ride at least.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea Ma’am. Not with the neighborhood I’m in.”

Karen rolls her eyes, “I know what neighborhood you’re in Frank. I rescued your damn dog from squalor that one time right?”

“I wouldn’t go as far as calling my apartment ‘squalor’.”

She shrugs, “Getting pretty close I’d say. Just-,” her fingers tug on the sleeve of his arm that’s hanging over the top of the door, “get in the damn car Frank. We’d probably be there by now.”

There it was again. That determination. That “won’t take no for answer” attitude that honestly drove him a little crazy.

(Maybe in a good way).

He reply is a smirk as he walks around to the passenger side.

“One condition.” Frank says, shutting the door.

She snorts, “Oh yeah? What’s that.” She didn’t get many requests from him.

“You gotta play the tape.”

He leans back slightly, expecting her to reach into the glove compartment, but she starts the car and the croon of _Earth, Wind, and Fire_ plays through the speakers .

Frank chuckles, “Thought you said you were sick of it.”

“Shut it, Frank.” She mutters.

“If I remember correctly, you said there was ‘only so much funk you could take’.

Karen stuck her tongue out at him before turning out of the parking lot.

“Very mature.”

She grins back at him, fully appreciating the light in his eyes.

It wasn’t that these moments were rare. But they were less…. predictable.

She’d take what she could get.


	23. "No sugar in my coffee"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the song "No Sugar in my coffee" by Caught a Ghost from a tumblr prompt from the lovely @evilbunnyking. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

He was methodical in his preparation. Had always seen the link between organization and efficiency. He’d say he had a tendency towards order even before the military.

Now he supposed someone would just see his actions as prone to chaos. He wouldn’t disagree completely, but if asked he would say he conducted his days with a simple routine.

First: Coffee. Black, no sugar. Piping hot.

Second: Feed the dog.

Third: Review. (Maps, strategy, checking magazines, confirming head counts, and pick up times).

Fourth: Walk the dog.

Fifth: Follow through and finish the job.

Sixth: Walk away intact…relatively intact.

After that? Things were a little less predictable. Things usually were with Ms. Page. Maybe he liked that about her. Sometimes he finds her at the café near her apartment, staring fixatedly at the screen in front of her.

“You’re killing your eyes,” he muttered once, finishing up the cup of coffee she had bought him.

She had raised an eyebrow at him, responding with a “I think I’ll live” and a mocking smile before returning to her typing.  

Tonight he catches her coming out of the office. Her pace slows as she recognizes him and she walks towards him.

“It’s late, Karen.” As close to a greeting as she’ll get, but he’s there. That’s what matters.

Karen shouldered her purse, her keys jingling in her hand. “Yeah, well. Stories don’t sleep.”

“That’s cute. C’mon.” He ushers her to her car and walks with her silently. She smiles faintly at the sensation of his hand at the small of her back, gently guiding her.

He holds open the door for her as she sinks into the seat. She glances up, “You, uh, want to come back?” She nods in the direction of her apartment.

Frank hesitates. An agreement almost slipping out. He can see there’s hope in her eyes.

“No..No I’d better head back.”

“Sure. Yeah.” She recovers well. Karen pauses before she giving him a small smile, “Let me give you a ride at least.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea Ma’am. Not with the neighborhood I’m in.”

Karen rolls her eyes, “I know what neighborhood you’re in Frank. I rescued your damn dog from squalor that one time right?”

“I wouldn’t go as far as calling my apartment ‘squalor’.”

She shrugs, “Getting pretty close I’d say. Just-,” her fingers tug on the sleeve of his arm that’s hanging over the top of the door, “get in the damn car Frank. We’d probably be there by now.”

There it was again. That determination. That “won’t take no for answer” attitude that honestly drove him a little crazy.

(Maybe in a good way).

He reply is a smirk as he walks around to the passenger side.

“One condition.” Frank says, shutting the door.

She snorts, “Oh yeah? What’s that.” She didn’t get many requests from him.

“You gotta play the tape.”

He leans back slightly, expecting her to reach into the glove compartment, but she starts the car and the croon of _Earth, Wind, and Fire_ plays through the speakers .

Frank chuckles, “Thought you said you were sick of it.”

“Shut it, Frank.” She mutters.

“If I remember correctly, you said there was ‘only so much funk you could take’.

Karen stuck her tongue out at him before turning out of the parking lot.

“Very mature.”

She grins back at him, fully appreciating the light in his eyes.

It wasn’t that these moments were rare. But they were less…. predictable.

She’d take what she could get.


	24. “You’re the only person I have left.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the tumblr prompt "Frank is a sweet drunk." From the wonderful @primarybufferpanel (ArwenLune on this site).

There was the tell tale sign of the languid shuffle of heavy boots and the thud as he slumped against her door.

When she opened the door slowly, he smiled a goofy grin as she gave him a once over, the smell of alcohol on his breath.

“You gonna let me in?”

She’d been here before. Not with him, but with previous boyfriends (not that the term “boyfriend” really fit their progressing relationship).

Her trust in him faltered in that moment. The weight of the past choking the present moment.

But she swallowed and opened the door wordlessly. He stumbled in and chuckled when she caught him and lifted an arm over her shoulder, leading him to the couch.

She should have known, tonight would look something like this. She thought that on the anniversary of his family’s death that his rage would bring with him a wave of death. That he’d kill with less intention than usual.

But it seemed sorrow had a more powerful hand tonight. On the other hand, maybe she should have known-he was still a man after all. Still flesh and bone and worn down by time. A bottle easier to reach for than a gun.

“Just take it easy Frank” she mumbled, draping a blanket over him with a sigh before she filled a glass with water and handed it to him.

He looked up at her, confused.

She looked down at him, arms crossed, “drink” she prompted.

“I’m drunk.” He replied, matter of fact, liked he’d only just felt the effects of his intoxication.

“Yes. You are. Now start drinking the water or you’ll feel a hell of a lot worse tomorrow.”

He smiled and chugged it down. “That from life experience Ms. Page?”

“Yeah Frank.” She kept her distance. Too many times….too many times they had snapped. It left her weary of men whose breath reeked of whisky -even if this man had only ever tried to protect her.

“You can crash here tonight.” And she turned to head into the bedroom but he caught her wrist in his, pulling her in.

“I missed you.” He mumbled, fingers tracing the curve of her wrist. “Been a while.”

Karen remained silent. She’d missed him too. He’d been busy lately. Too busy for weekly visits to her apartment.

He pulled her down gently so she was resting on his knee. Leaning in, he pressed his forehead on her collarbone and she froze at the contact. Skin on skin.

_Jesus Christ Frank._

She moved to stand, “You should sleep.”

He let her slip from her grasp.

“That’s what I’m trying to avoid” And his words lost their honeyed tone.

She sank down before him and looked up. There was hurt, more than usual. Like a deep pain had burrowed its way out to the surface.

It had of course, he’d lost everything. Her words wouldn’t help.

Her bed might.

“C’mon.” Karen took his hand, and pulled him off the couch, leading him towards her room. She started to guide him to lay back on the bed when he resisted the movement, "Wait, wait”.

 He sat up only to unlace his boots, taking them off slowly, careful to prevent the caked mud from cracking off.

“Ok.” And he collapsed back.

She smiled, and covered him with the quilt. He settled, closing his eyes.

“You’re the only person I have left.” He said and he exhaled, breath filling the silence. An afterthought. And again, he caught her hand, lifting it to his lips  and planting a gentle kiss. “Thank you.”

His hard exterior in ruins and he glanced up at her with adoring eyes.

Tired, tear stained, eyes.

She leaned down and kissed him softly on the forehead.

“Get some sleep Frank. I’ll be in shortly. Tomorrow, I’ll buy you coffee at the café on 43rd that you like so much.”

"That’s my favorite.” He mumbled.

“I know.”

She returned minutes later to the sound of a soft snore. Gazing down at him, she noted a new softness to his features. 

There was no need for fear.

Karen crawled into bed and took a deep breath.

She hoped, and prayed-if anyone was listening- that his dreams were quiet. Peaceful and of happy memories.

He deserved one night of rest-especially tonight.

The next morning, she woke to the space next to her empty except for a folded quilt and the pillows placed neatly at the head of the bed. He was sitting, still as a statue, at her table.

“Hey,” she called out softly. Frank glanced up and Karen thought for a brief moment that she saw a trace of regret.

His voice was hoarse, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come to you…not in that state.”

She smiled reassuringly, “You were a complete gentleman.”

He didn’t look convinced as he broke her gaze.

She walked over to him, running a hand through his short hair. He glanced up.

“You were fine. I would tell you otherwise. Actually,” she smiled, “if you weren’t you’d be sleeping in the hallway and not in my bed. Trust me, I can hold my own.”

A smile twitched on his lips, “I know it.”  And he took her hand, kissing her palm.

Her brows drew together, "Do you remember last night?”

“No… No I was pretty far gone.”

She nodded, “Well. We made breakfast plans. Let me get dressed.” Karen walked over to her closet, “I’m buying” she called out as she picked the summer dress.

"I don’t think so Ma’am. It’s on me..” He replied firmly. 

Karen grinned, “If you say so.”

A few minutes later, they walked in the early morning haze to the small café. At one point, he took her hand in his, the pad of his thumb brushing over her pulse point, “Thank you Karen.”

She pressed her lips to his on a soft kiss in reply and nodded after.

“C'mon” she prodded, “Let’s get you that omelet.”


	25. Timeless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little fic for @phenomenaaa :)

Her phone rang right when she was stepping out of the shower. The steam rose and wafted to the ceiling in her small bathroom. She had the habit of keeping her phone nearby-mostly for work, sometimes for… well there was hardly any point in trying to use a clever guise to replace his name.

And tonight it wasn’t a source or Ellison. Tonight it was Frank.

There was always a pause when she picked up. She always spoke first.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

His tone wasn’t light or upbeat. It was low, a rumble like an oncoming storm. The effect it invoked was the same every time. A shiver that raised the hair on her arms.

“You going out tonight?” He asked calmly.

“Yeah, a banquet for work.”

“Anywhere near 53rd and 10th?”.

She tucked the phone under her ear as she wrapped a towel around her tall frame, walking into her bedroom.

“No. Why?” It was somewhat distracted as she stared at the dresses in her closet.

Karen bit her lip and sighed. Too bad business casual wouldn’t cut it tonight.

“Karen?”

“Hmm. Sorry, you said something vague and about how I should steer clear of 53rd and 10th tonight?”

He gave a soft chuckle. “Yeah that’s about right. You seem distracted.”

She shrugged as she pulled out her two options. Red or black. Both simply cut. 

She didn’t expect to be turning any heads tonight and that was fine by her. She was there to listen. To observe.

“Yeah, just appreciating my lack of banquet attire.”

The conversation was easy and flowed in ways reminiscent of the early days. They talked over time. About memories, about plans and unwritten stories, and sometimes about simple shit like what the hell was she going to wear.

“What are your options?“ He said it so casually, in a way only Frank could-like he wasn’t going on a rampage in a mere matter of hours

” Black or red. There’s nothing really stunning about either.“

There was no hesitation. "Black.”

Karen smiled.  And it grew into a grin at his elaboration, “It’s classic. Timeless.”

She plucked the dress off its hanger, adjusting her grip on the phone, “Black it is. Thanks for the help Frank.”

“Glad to be of service ma'am. Remember what I said.”

“I will.” She swallowed, glancing down at the dress in her hands, her words soft, “Frank?..Be careful tonight.” Her tone carried as much of a warning as his did.

She was met by silence, before he quietly murmured, “I will.”

It was as good as a goodbye she would get.

Karen dressed and glanced at herself in the mirror. The black chiffon dress did look good.

_Timeless._

_Classic._

She smiled and grabbed her wrap and purse (a small notebook inside). The banquet was worth it. Rubbing elbows with the city’s top business officials was hardly nerve racking. Thinking about the echo of gunfire and the hurling bullets catching brick on 53rd and 10th on the other hand…

Behind her confident smile, her nerves were a goddamn mess.


	26. Wounded Wolf

A wounded wolf…that’s what he reminded her of. Practically stripped bare before her-at least emotionally, though his clothes looked shredded.

Almost like he was snarling at her approach, begging her with barred teeth to stay away or, better yet, to leave him bleeding red into the snow.

Just walk away.

He murmured it under his breath as she took a step towards him, palms open, voice low like she’s trying not to spook him. Walk away… that was laughable. She had never been very good at that. He should know that better than anyone.

She crouched low in front of him, stuffing her mittens in her coat pockets. Karen sniffed and saw her breath in the cold. She wouldn’t lie-she liked the effect of the cold. The hurt in her lungs. Like pressing into a bruise.

It steadied her in a sick way.

And right now she would use whatever means available to calm her nerves-even if it was the bizarre fondness for frigid weather.

Under heavy lids, he eyed her wearily all the while clutching at his side. Blood seeped out slowly between his fingers. His hands were chapped and his lips looked like they were on their way to being blue.

She sighed, “Quite a shit show, Frank” and her eyes roamed over the rest of his shivering form, her mouth pressed into a hard line.

When he spoke, it was even toned. The way he tensed, like it was the only thing preventing him from crumbling. Like the only thing keeping his words from becoming slurred, though they were already dangerously close to being so.

“How’d you find me?”

Karen raised her eyebrows as she moved to his side, preparing to gently lift his arm around her shoulder, “Does it matter?”

“No, I guess it doesn’t. Not right now at least.”

“Good. Let’s chat when you’re not bleeding out and hypothermic. You’re gonna have to help me alright? My cars just ahead.”

She let the fear bubble in the pit of her stomach as she heaved him to stand. Felt it flutter low, and she acknowledged that sharp feeling of nervousness as he stumbled and leaned against her. It was bad…and not the time to dwell on the terribleness of it all.

The blood. His weakness. Her shallow breaths. The pessimist in her whispering that he only had so many chances…he could only be so lucky and maybe tonight he wouldn’t have the winning card.

How many scars could one person bear anyway?

“C’mon asshole.” It was muttered through gritted teeth. Her car was a few paces away, but his uneasy gait made the time pass painfully slow.

Karen glanced woefully at Frank and swallowed down the worry that threatened to break her cool resolve. She bit her lip, the sting of it was the small kick she needed to press on. One step at a time. That’s what she’d been telling him as they walked…no, he wasn’t composed enough to describe it as such.

_One thing at a time Page. One fucking thing._

He braced himself against her car as she fiddled with her keys, unlocking the door. Any concern for the tracks of blood that would soon stain her back seat was a mere after thought.

His voice was hoarse and strained from exertion. She was impressed at the coherency of it all.

“Couldn’t let me be. Goddamn couldn’t let me go. Maybe,” His words faltered and his form wavered. His knees buckled.

“Maybe I wanted it to be over.”

She shook her head and took his hand in hers, lowering him into the back seat.

“Shut the fuck up and lay down.  We can talk about what you have to live for after we get you patched up.”

She pressed her hand over the bloody hand at his side. She pressed hard.

A not so gentle reminder.

_Keep pressure on it, Frank. Don’t let go. Not yet._

Karen slammed the door shut and turned the heat up full blast. She was grateful there was a nurse waiting at her apartment to check for shrapnel. To sew and to tie off the suture all the while muttering curses and prayers under her breath. Good thoughts and pure intentions for the murderer whose life lay in her willing and able hands. She’d start an IV and hang a bag of LR as Karen watched the fluid drip into a chamber, filling up on the way to his veins.

Karen pictured the not so distant future as she drove and spoke of family and Max and goddamn good cups of coffee to a passenger who drifted off in between the sentences “What kind of dog owner decides to quit and bleed out in an alley when they’ve got a loving pit waiting for their return?”  
and “Night’s like this scare the shit out of me. It’s the ice, Frank. Don’t realize it’s there till you’re crashed in a ditch.”

If he’d been awake and oriented, he might have noticed her shiver and quiet for the few seconds before she prattled on, trying to engage him by filling the silence.

As his vision went hazy, he’d see a halo of blond hair and a tight lipped smile when she craned her head in his direction.

“Hang on, Frank. I’m not ready to say goodbye.”

Maybe he wasn’t that ready either.

He pressed down harder at the wound in his side.


	27. Brittle Bones

Karen winced at the sound of the clack of her heels ringing out in the church. It was empty, but the echo of her presence made her tread softly none the less. This was not where she usually spent her Wednesday afternoons. They were comprised of hunching over her desk revising a draft of a story or out fact checking. But today she needed the walk. It wasn’t a story that drew her into the sacred space. 

Karen took a seat in a pew in the middle of the church. Not far back enough to indicate shyness, but not close enough to the alter to show any sign of familiarity or adoration. No, she was a spectator here. An observer.

Her gaze wandered over to the large wooden cross on the wall. Questions brewed in cold apathy at the hanging symbol.

Questions of loss, death, justice, and forgiveness. Of how bargaining with God didn’t do shit except tear you down till it felt like you were struggling to take in a single breath. Her nails bit her palm as she wondered why she never felt comforted by the idea of the divine. It worked for others…why not her?

She shook her head and stared down at the fading crescent shaped imprints.

If there was a God, Karen figured he wasn’t going to be answering any of her questions. If she truly wanted answers, well, she could go back to work. That was her damn job.

She exhaled slowly and smiled to herself. She had been curious to see if coming here could offer an explanation as to Matt Murdock and his motivations.  It had been two months since he’d confessed to her and she hadn’t returned his last call.

Karen looked around at the stained glass windows. The images of saints were bathed in light. She supposed it all came down to hope. Matt found hope in religion.

Karen found her hope in humanity.

The peaceful silence was broken by the sound of someone sitting down in the pew behind her.

“You come here often Ma’am?”

Karen stared ahead. “I said I’d meet you in the park at 3. Since when are you ever early?”

Frank grunted and shifted again. The wood creaked and groaned. She didn’t look back, but she knew he gave a halfhearted shrug.

It had only been a month ago when she had convinced him that they should start sharing mutually beneficial information.  

After one last skeptical glance at the cross, she turned to face him.

His expression would have been stoic had his gaze not been soft. She knew somehow he was cutting through her bullshit bravado. Churches tended to remind her of more than Matt Murdock. Churches were for the sound of gut-wrenching sobs, for black, and for the vacant stares that accompanied monotone sermons.

Meaningless words spoken by a stranger. Her family had never been religious enough to have a close relationship with their pastor.

Her brother deserved better.

Karen swallowed and grit her teeth. Frank didn’t know that though. He didn’t know any of that…so let him try to dissect the quiver in her voice.

“I thought I told you to stop following me, Frank.”

“Didn’t follow you. Parks right around the corner. Plans changed, I walked over early and I saw you come in.” He gestured at interior.  “Curiosity got the best of me. Didn’t take you for the religious type.” Frank spoke in an easy drawl.

Karen eyed him. He was relaxed.

That was different.

“I’m not. Guess I was just curious too.”

His eyes narrowed and he leaned in. “That’s not all there is to it.”

Karen stilled and blinked away the images. A mask in her hands. A framed picture next to a closed casket. One hurt more than the other.

“That’s all you’re going to get.” It was hoarse. She hadn’t noticed her hands were clenched.

He did.

Frank gave a conciliatory nod, “Fair enough.” Karen forced them to relax as she stood and exited to the aisle. He followed her. They didn’t speak until they were out of the building and walking across the street to the small, shaded park.

The anxious stirring in her chest broke free as she left her questions behind. One had been answered at least and it was that no, she didn’t gain any new insight into Matt Murdock. Perhaps those questions were best explored with a bottle of scotch, rather than sitting stiffly in an empty church.

Frank glanced around the park before sitting down at the bench. They compared information. Exchanged theories in hushed tones.

He was tense again. His words clipped and cold.

Their relationship was brittle. It had always been fragile, but there was new distance between them. They were starting over. Lies shared a space with brutal honesty now. He was careful when disclosing his memories; she was unwilling to part with hers.

But she held his, still. Guarded them. Respected him-she still respected him as Frank Castle. Even if he had slammed a door in her face.

She had hope.

She always had hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take it back now y'all (as in post Frank slamming the door in Karen's face and their slowly rebuilding their relationship).
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! :) find me on [tumblr](http://lightofpage.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Title of the fic from the amazing song by Aurora


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